CHAPTER XXVI.
THE PETIT COURIER ILLUSTRE.
THE _Toison d' Or_ was but a modest little establishment as regarded thehouse, but it was surrounded on three sides by a good-sized gardenoverlooking the river. Here, in the trellised arbors which lined thelawn on either side, those customers who preferred the open air couldtake their dinners, coffees, and absinthes _al fresco_.
The scene when we arrived was at its gayest. There were dinners going onin every arbor; waiters running distractedly to and fro with trays andbottles; two women, one with a guitar, the other with a tamborine,singing under a tree in the middle of the garden; while in the air therereigned an exhilarating confusion of sounds and smells impossibleto describe.
We went in. Mueller paused, looked round, captured a passing waiter, andasked for Monsieur le proprietaire. The waiter pointed over his shouldertowards the house, and breathlessly rushed on his way.
Mueller at once led the way into a salon on the ground-floor looking overthe garden.
Here we found ourselves in a large low room containing some thirty orforty tables, and fitted up after the universal restaurant pattern, withcheap-looking glasses, rows of hooks, and spittoons in due number. Theair was heavy with the combined smells of many dinners, and noisy withthe clatter of many tongues. Behind the fruits, cigars, and liqueurbottles that decorated the _comptoir_ sat a plump, black-eyed littlewoman in a gorgeous cap and a red silk dress. This lady welcomed us witha bewitching smile and a gracious inclination of the head.
"_Ces messieurs_," she said, "will find a vacant table yonder, by thewindow."
Mueller bowed majestically.
"Madame," he said, "I wish to see Monsieur le proprietaire."
The dame de comptoir looked very uneasy.
"If Monsieur has any complaint to make," she said, "he can make it tome."
"Madame, I have none."
"Or if it has reference to the ordering of a dinner...."
Mueller smiled loftily.
"Dinner, Madame," he said, with a disdainful gesture, "is but one of theaccidents common to humanity. A trifle! A trifle alwayshumiliating--sometimes inconvenient--occasionally impossible. No,Madame, mine is a serious mission; a mission of the highest importance,both socially and commercially. May I beg that you will have thegoodness to place my card in the hands of Monsieur le proprietaire, andsay that I request the honor of five minutes' interview."
The little woman's eyes had all this time been getting rounder andblacker. She was evidently confounded by my friend's grandiloquence.
"_Ah! mon Dieu! M'sieur_," she said, nervously, "my husband is in thekitchen. It is a busy day with us, you understand--but I will sendfor him."
And she forthwith despatched a waiter for "Monsieur Choucru."
Mueller seized me by the arm.
"Heavens!" he exclaimed, in a very audible aside, "did you hear? She ishis wife! She is Madame Choucru?"
"Well, and what of that?"
"What of that, indeed? _Mais, mon ami_, how can you ask the question?Have you no eyes? Look at her! Such a remarkably handsome woman--such a_tournure_--such eyes--such a figure for an illustration! Only conceivethe effect of Madame Choucru--in medallion!"
"Oh, magnificent!" I replied. "Magnificent--in medallion."
But I could not, for the life of me, imagine what he was driving at.
"And it would make the fortune of the _Toison d'Or_" he added, solemnly.
To which I replied that it would undoubtedly do so.
Monsieur Choucru now came upon the scene; a short, rosy, round-facedlittle man in a white flat cap and bibbed apron--like an elderly cherubthat had taken to cookery. He hung back upon the threshold, wiping hisforehead, and evidently unwilling to show himself in his shirt-sleeves.
"Here, _mon bon_," cried Madame, who was by this time crimson withgratified vanity, and in a fever of curiosity; "this way--the gentlemanis waiting to speak to you!"
Monsieur, the cook and proprietor, shuffled his feet to and fro in thedoorway, but came no nearer.
"_Parbleu_!" he said, "if M'sieur's business is not urgent."
"It is extremely urgent, Monsieur Choucru," replied Mueller; "and,moreover, it is not so much my business as it is yours,"
"Ah bah! if it is my business, then, it may stand over till to-morrow,"replied the little man, impatiently. "To-day I have eighty dinners onhand, and with M'sieur's permission"....
But Mueller strode to the door and caught him by the shoulder.
"No, Monsieur Choucru," he said sternly, "I will not let you ruinyourself by putting off till to-morrow what can only be done to-day. Ihave come here, Monsieur Choucru, to offer you fame. Fame and fortune,Monsieur Choucru!--and I will not suffer you, for the sake of a fewmiserable dinners, to turn your back upon the most brilliant moment ofyour life!"
"_Mais, M'sieur_--explain yourself" ... stammered the proprietaire.
"You know who I am, Monsieur Choucru?"
"No, M'sieur--not in the least."
"I am Mueller--Franz Mueller--landscape painter, portrait painter,historical painter, caricaturist, artist _en chef_ to the _Petit CourierIllustre_"
"_Hein! M'sieur est peintre_!"
"Yes, Monsieur Choucru--and I offer you my protection."
Monsieur Choucru scratched his ear, and smiled doubtfully.
"Now listen, Monsieur Choucru--I am here to-day in the interests of the_Petit Courier Illustre_. I take the Courbevoie fete for my subject. Isketch the river, the village, the principal features of the-scene; andon Saturday my designs are in the hands of all Paris. Do youunderstand me?"
"I understand that M'sieur is all this time talking to me of his ownbusiness, while mine, _la bas_, is standing still!" exclaimed theproprietaire, in an agony of impatience. "I have the honor to wishM'sieur good-day."
But Mueller seized him again, and would not let him escape.
"Not so fast, Monsieur Choucru," he said; "not so fast! Will you answerme one question before you go?"
"_Eh, mon Dieu_! Monsieur."
"Will you tell me, Monsieur Choucru, what is to prevent me from givinga view of the best restaurant in Courbevoie?"
Madame Choucru, from behind the _comptoir_, uttered a little scream.
"A design in the _Petit Courier Illustre_, I need scarcely tell you,"pursued Mueller, with indescribable pomposity, "is in itself sufficientto make the fortune not only of an establishment, but of a neighborhood.I am about to make Courbevoie the fashion. The sun of Asnieres, ofMontmorency, of Enghien has set--the sun of Courbevoie is about to rise.My sketches will produce an unheard-of effect. All Paris will throng toyour fetes next Sunday and Monday--all Paris, with its inexhaustibleappetite for _bifteck aux pommes frites_--all Paris with itsunquenchable thirst for absinthe and Bavarian beer! Now, MonsieurChoucru, do you begin to understand me?"
"_Mais_, Monsieur, I--I think...."
"You think you do, Monsieur Choucru? Very good. Then will you please toanswer me one more question. What is to prevent me from conferring fame,fortune, and other benefits too numerous to mention on your excellentneighbor at the corner of the Place--Monsieur Coquille of the Restaurant_Croix de Malte_?"
Monsieur Choucru scratched his ear again, stared helplessly at his wife,and said nothing. Madame looked grave.
"Are we to treat this matter on the footing of a business transaction,Monsieur!" she asked, somewhat sharply. "Because, if so, let Monsieur atonce name his price for me...."
"'PRICE,' Madame!" interrupted Mueller, with a start of horror. "Graciouspowers! this to me--to Franz Mueller of the _Petit Courier Illustre_!'No, Madame--you mistake me--you wound me--you touch the honor of theFine Arts! Madame, I am incapable of selling my patronage."
Madame clasped her hands; raised her voice; rolled her black eyes; dideverything but burst into tears. She was shocked to have offendedMonsieur! She was profoundly desolated! She implored a thousand pardons!And then, like a true French-woman of business, she brought back theconversation to the one important point:--since mo
ney was not inquestion, upon what consideration would Monsieur accord his preferenceto the _Toison d' Or_ instead of to the _Croix de Malte_?
Mueller bowed, laid his hand upon his heart, and said:--
"I will do it, _pour les beaux yeux de Madame_."
And then, in graceful recognition of the little man's rights as owner ofthe eyes in question, he bowed to Monsieur Choucru.
Madame was inexpressibly charmed. Monsieur smiled, fidgeted, and castlonging glances towards the door.
"I have eighty dinners on hand," he began again, "and if M'sieur willexcuse me...."
"One moment more, my dear Monsieur Choucru," said Mueller, slipping hishand affectionately through the little man's arm. "For myself, as I havealready told you, I can accept nothing--but I am bound in honor not toneglect the interests of the journal I represent. You will of coursewish to express your sense of the compliment paid to your house byadding your name to the subscription list of the _Petit CourierIllustre_?"
"Oh, by--by all means--with pleasure," faltered the proprietaire.
"For how many copies, Monsieur Choucru? Shall we say--six?"
Monsieur looked at Madame. Madame nodded. Mueller took out hispocket-book, and waited, pencil in hand.
"Eh--_parbleu_!--let it be for six, then," said Monsieur Choucru,somewhat reluctantly.
Mueller made the entry, shut up the pocket-book, and shook handsboisterously with his victim.
"My dear Monsieur Choucru," he said, "I cannot tell you how gratifyingthis is to my feelings, or with what disinterested satisfaction I shallmake your establishment known to the Parisian public. You shall beimmortalized, my dear fellow--positively immortalized!"
"_Bien oblige, M'sieur--bien oblige_. Will you not let my wife offer youa glass of liqueure?"
"Liqueure, _mon cher_!" exclaimed Mueller, with an outburst of frankcordiality--"hang liqueure!--WE'LL DINE WITH YOU!"
"Monsieur shall be heartily welcome to the best dinner the _Toison d'Or_can send up; and his friend also," said Madame, with her sweetest smile.
"Ah, Madame!"
"And M'sieur Choucru shall make you one of his famous cheese souffles._Tiens, mon bon_, go down and prepare a cheese souffle for two."
Mueller smote his forehead distractedly.
"For two!" he cried. "Heavens! I had forgotten my aunt and my cousin!"
Madame looked up inquiringly.
"Monsieur has forgotten something?"
"Two somethings, Madame--two somebodies! My aunt--my excellent andadmirable maternal aunt,--and my cousin. We left them sitting under atree by the river-side, more than half an hour ago. But the fault,Madame, is yours."
"How, Monsieur?"
"Yes; for in your charming society I forget the ties of family and thelaws of politeness. But I hasten to fetch my forgotten relatives. Withwhat pleasure they will share your amiable hospitality! _Au revoir_,Madame. In ten minutes we shall be with you again!"
Madame Choucru looked grave. She had not bargained to entertain a partyof four; yet she dared not disoblige the _Petit Courier Illustre_. Shehad no time, however, to demur to the arrangement; for Mueller,ingeniously taking her acquiescence for granted, darted out of the roomwithout waiting for an answer.
"Miserable man!" I exclaimed, as soon as we were outside the doors,"what will you do now?"
"Do! Why, fetch my admirable maternal aunt and my interesting cousin, tobe sure."
"But you have raised a dinner under false pretences!"
"I, _mon cher_? Not a bit of it."
"Have you, then, really anything to do with the _Petit CourierIllustre_?"
"The Editor of the _Petit Courier Illustre_ is one of the best fellowsin the world, and occasionally (when my pockets represent that vacuumwhich Nature very properly abhors) he advances me a couple of Napoleons.I wipe out the score from time to time by furnishing a design for thepaper. Now to-day, you see, I'm in luck. I shall pay off two obligationsat once--to say nothing of Monsieur Choucru's six-fold subscription tothe P.C., on which the publishers will allow me a douceur of thirtyfrancs. Now, confess that I'm a man of genius!"
In less than a quarter of an hour we were all four established round oneof Madame Choucru's comfortable little dining-tables, in a snug recessat the farthest end of the salon. Here, being well out of reach of ourhostess's black eyes, Mueller assumed all the airs of a liberalentertainer. He hung up _ma cousine's_ bonnet; fetched a footstool for_ma tante_; criticised the sauces; presided over the wine; cut jokeswith the waiter; and pretended to have ordered every dish beforehand.The stewed kidneys with mushrooms were provided especially for MadameMarotte; the fricandeau was selected in honor of Mam'selle Marie (had henot an innate presentiment that she loved fricandeau?); and as for thesoles _au gratin_, he swore, in defiance of probability and all the lawsof nature, that they were the very fish we had just caught in the Seine.By-and-by came Monsieur Choucru's famous cheese _souffle_; and then,with a dish of fruit, four cups of coffee, and four glasses of liqueure,the banquet came to an end.
As we sat at desert, Mueller pulled out his book and pencilled a rapidbut flattering sketch of the dining-room interior, developing aperspective as long as the Rue de Rivoli, and a _mobilier_ at leastequal in splendor to that of the _Trois Freres_.
At sight of this _chef d'oeuvre_, Madame Choucru was moved almost totears. Ah, Heaven! if Monsieur could only figure to himself heradmiration for his _beau talent_! But alas! that was impossible--asimpossible as that Monsieur Choucru should ever repay this unheard-ofobligation!
Mueller laid his hand upon his heart, and bowed profoundly.
"Ah! Madame," he said, "it is not to Monsieur Choucru that I look forrepayment--it is to you."
"To me, Monsieur? _Dieu merci! Monsieur se moque de moi_!"
And the Dame de Comptoir, intrenched behind her fruits and liqueurebottles, shot a Parthian glance from under her black eye-lashes, andmade believe to blush.
"Yes, Madame, to you. I only ask permission to come again very soon, forthe purpose of executing a little portrait of Madame--a little portraitwhich, alas! _must_ fail to render adequate justice to such a multitudeof charms."
And with this choice compliment, Mueller bowed again, took his leave,bestowed a whole franc upon the astonished waiter, and departed from the_Toison d'Or_ in an atmosphere of glory.
The fair, or rather that part of the fair where the dancers and dinersmost did congregate, was all ablaze with lights, and noisy with brassbands as we came out. _Ma tante_, who was somewhat tired, and had beendozing for the last half hour over her coffee and liqueure, wasimpatient to get back to Paris. The fair Marie, who was not tired atall, confessed that she should enjoy a waltz above everything. WhileMueller, who professed to be an animated time-table, swore that we werejust too late for the ten minutes past ten train, and that there wouldbe no other before eleven forty-five. So Madame Marotte was carried off,_bon gre, mal gre_, to a dancing-booth, where gentlemen were admitted onpayment of forty centimes per head, and ladies went in free.
Here, despite the noise, the dust, the braying of an abominable band,the overwhelming smell of lamp-oil, and the clatter, not only of heavywalking-boots, but even of several pairs of sabots upon an uneven floorof loosely-joined planks--_ma tante_, being disposed of in a safecorner, went soundly to sleep.
It was a large booth, somewhat over-full; and the company consistedmainly of Parisian blue blouses, little foot-soldiers, grisettes (forthere were grisettes in those days, and plenty of them), with asprinkling of farm-boys and dairy-maids from the villages round about.We found this select society caracoling round the booth in a thunderinggalop, on first going in. After the galop, the conductor announced a_valse a deux temps_. The band struck up--one--two--three. Away wentsome thirty couples--away went Mueller and the fair Marie--and away wentthe chronicler of this modest biography with a pretty little girl ingreen boots who waltzed remarkably well, and who deserted him in themiddle of the dance for a hideous little French soldier about four feetand a half high.
After
this rebuff (having learned, notwithstanding my friend'srepresentations to the contrary, that a train ran from Courbevoie toParis every half-hour up till midnight) I slipped away, leaving Muellerand _ma cousine_ in the midst of a furious flirtation, and MadameMarotte fast asleep in her corner.
The clocks were just striking twelve as I passed under the archwayleading to the Cite Bergere.
"_Tiens_!" said the fat concierge, as she gave me my key and my candle."Monsieur has perhaps been to the theatre this evening? No!--to thecountry--to the fete at Courbevoie! Ah, then, I'll be sworn that M'sieurhas had plenty of fun!"
But had I had plenty of fun? That was the question. That Mueller had hadplenty of flirting and plenty of fun was a fact beyond the reach ofdoubt. But a flirtation, after all, unless in a one-act comedy, is notentertaining to the mere looker-on; and oh! must not those bridesmaidswho sometimes accompany a happy couple in their wedding-tour, have adreary time of it?